It’s a sensation of , that, I am living no life but my own. Imagining myself, projecting myself, onstage and realizing that I am not doing this for anyone but me, in the origin of these sounds. That the act itself of music making comes directly from my need to create. I have let go of being a musician so many times now and I keep coming back to it. It comes out of me … i must create. It has taken death upon death upon death to reach this level. Those small deaths within the being which come with a letting go into something unknown.

Time and again letting go of everything I see myself as being … a musician, a photographer, a videographer, a writer, a vocalist, anything and everything. Sometimes this letting go would get right to the edge of destructive and flip over into an unhealthy space … smoking cigarettes and not eating much for days or weeks, feeling immersed in something dark, contemplating my own death and how I may be able to bring about its quickening. Feeling separated from the whole world, feeling like no one anywhere at any time could possibly understand me and none of it matters. zero, nothing. And then slowly finding bits of intrigue into which I transition, for prolonged moments forgetting my wish to die, and being swept into something joyful and healing and balancing. For me, this has always been singing. If I can move through everything between me and sitting down, I can begin to vocalize and am immediately transported directly into a warm, luscious, patient, present, loving moment within my own self. I become happiness itself, peeling layer upon layer off effortlessly, watching them fall away, as each note passes me by. I then bow to the series of moments immersed in vibration and honor its many gifts.

So it has taken me all of this death and rebirth to become who I am now. it might be essential that every person go through this extent of death in order to truly live; I’m not as interested recently in making broad statements that apply to massive populations, or to try to speak for “all people.” At this time, I prefer the personal: In my experience, there has been no choice but to die all these deaths. The magnetism of death pulls me and I go under, sometime later resurfacing after letting go of the possibility of ever seeing the light of day again. I feel that because of this thorough letting go, I was able to feel more fully that experience of hell, of death, and then to be liberated from its cords by means of not resisting. In the letting go of resistance is also the necessity to not see any aspect of life as bad, or wrong, or evil, but rather to simply see it clearly for what it is, whatever it is.

Tears upon tears, redefining the very experience of being alive and in the process, becoming what I essentially am: all the various interests, inclinations, laughter, perceptions, impulses and everything that makes me who i am. I am still a mystery to myself, and I suspect that I always will be to at least some extent. Little by little filling in the spaces and realizing the full, geometric, balanced, harmonious, vibrating, organic imprint snowflake pattern of perfect imperfection that i am.